A King without a Kingdom
by ShadowlandRefugee
Summary: This story looks at Peter's life after he returns to Narnia and the struggle he faces being just a normal person.
1. Chapter 1

"NEW CADET, ABOUT FACE" screamed the Cadet in the Red Sash, and the new cadet turned around.

Immediately he was accosted with:

"step up to my line, not on my line, not over my line, not behind my line, step up to my line,"

in such a blurred stream of words that the new cadet had a hard time distinguishing what was being said, let alone comprehending the meaning. But he knew what to do, after all it was tradition, perhaps the most famous tradition on a day full of traditions at a place practically built on tradition.

The sun was hot, beating down on the new cadet, he had long since sweated through the grey pt shirt. The mugginess was unbearable, sticky New York heat that felt so very different from home. It had been a long day for this particular new cadet, although he was not alone in this. After all, reception day, or R-day, for the United States Military Academy was never supposed to be easy. Of the approximately 1250 candidates who stepped foot on the hallowed grounds of West Point, 20 or so would not even make it past the first day. Already, several members of the class of 2018 had fallen, tearfully quitting and giving up a slot so many had sought, that would now never be filled.

It had certainly been a long day though. Being a foreign cadet, he had started his day early processing through with the other foreign cadets before the first group of Americans arrived. He had heard the shouts and screams of the upperclassmen as they picked up all the necessary items to begin the 6 week long Cadet Basic Training event known as BEAST. While they had skipped the official oath binding them to service in the United States Army, the rest of the events were still the same for the international cadets.

The cadre seemed to understand that some of the international new cadets didn't speak English all that well (the Asian and African new cadets in particular), but unfortunately he had no such excuse. The southern accents may have been a little challenging, but he understood perfectly what he was doing wrong, and it was pretty much everything. He couldn't walk right, stand right, read right, or even eat right. The hurried lunch in the mess hall was scarfing down a sandwich before he went to get his hair shaven, all of it, gone. He had stood in line for hours reading his knowledge book and trying to memorize the definition of leadership and the basic rank structure here. He had already called 2 female firsties (seniors) Sir, and 3 other firsties sergeant, the rank of the cows (juniors). It was a little confusing.

But on and on it went, and now here he stood, facing the infamous cadet in the red sash. Of course he hadn't been able to think of all this in the time it took him to walk up to the piece of masking tape on the ground that was "the line." About all that went through his mind was "don't mess up again don't mess up again, don't…"

"NEW CADET, YOU ARE ON MY LINE, WHY ARE YOU ON MY LINE"

"NO EXCUSE SIR"

"New Cadet, report"

"SIR, NEW CADET PEVENSIE REPORTS TO THE CADET IN THE RED SASH FOR THE 7TH TIME AS ORDERED, READY TO STRIKE SIR"

Authors Note 1 SUMMARY: I feel like a lot of people talk about the reign of the kings and queens while in Narnia, but less is centered on their lives after Narnia. I am focusing on Peter, who I cannot imagine adapted easily to life in this World. As far as setting and plot go I know exactly what Peter would do: join the military and become an officer. Essentially this story will be what happened if Peter was placed in my world. The dates are off he would have gone to Narnia around 2009, I am going to stay as true as possible to the books (not the movies, which I do like a lot but there will certainly be no Suspian or foolish assaults on Miraz's castle, or green mist. This is my first fan fiction, and any advice would be greatly appreciated. Any questions y'all have about the novel shoot em my way.

Authors Note 2:Big shout out to wildhorses1492 and BladesN'Knives for reviewing.

Also, if anything I say doesn't make sense about West Point please review and ask.

Also if you want to know what the Cadet in the Red Sash is like follow this url: watch?v=IwFWV9rqStw , to see a good example. I promise I will explain how we get to this point in the upcoming chapters.

Thank y'all for reading, my song for this chapter is Centuries by Fall out boy

God Bless

ShadowlandRefugee


	2. Chapter 2

********* 5 years earlier**********

 ********* Professor Kirke's House, England *********

Peter Pevensie stared into the celling of his room. His room… the words sounded strange in his brain, as they were totally against everything his senses were telling him. In _his_ room he couldn't see the celling, just the canopy of his four poster bed. In _his_ room his bed was soft, luxurious, fit for a king. In this room, he was sleeping on an old bed with rickety springs that creaked with every movement. The smell was not that of sea breeze drifting through the window, and he could not hear the soft sounds of waves breaking on the rocky shore. Instead he smelled the faint taint of an old house and the sounds of a vacuum cleaner nosily working downstairs. And yet his room was the word that came to his mind.

The light was also wrong. It was much too bright for him to just be waking up. The night watchman should have finished his shift by ensuring he was awake. The shift ended at 5 in the morning and unless an important banquet had happened in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel the king was usually up well before the guard came around. On campaign, sleep was no sure thing, and he would often have to be forced, mostly by Edmund, to go lie down for a few hours in order to ensure the High King could still function, fight, and command his army across the field of battle.

No, this was not his room, he decided, and yet the word kept coming to his mind. His room. His mind began to wander back to the previous day and the realization of what had happened washed over him. He sat up, feeling the body that was not his move. He saw a mirror standing in the corner and approached it nervously. A thin nightshirt hung about his adolescent body. He could not get over how young the boy staring back at him looked. And yet it was certainly Peter, the day he arrived in Narnia, the day he first set eyes on what would be his kingdom.

He had forgotten that day, lost in the mental fog their time before Narnia had been. Spare Oom, he smiled at the thought, the mystical land they had supposedly came from. He had remembered the Battle of Beruna, the first time in combat, the first time he had to kill in large numbers. He had certainly remembered his first kill, for which he was knighted Wolfsbane. The feel of his sword passing through the fur, skin, and fat before it lodged itself deep within the stomach of the wolf was a feeling he would never forget. And yet everything before, before Narnia, before Tumnus, before the Beavers, all that had seemed to be a dream, or a dream of a dream.

He had been far too busy to think or care about life before his coronation, and he had needed to live in the present to take care of his county.

His country… Narnia.

How would the fledging nation, only 15 years removed from the tyranny of the White Witch, survive with no clear leader to follow. None of the monarchs had married. He had asked Aslan several times for advice in this field, always imagining a marriage that would be as much for politics as it was for love. Love was something he had hoped for his siblings, but he realized that it was not something he could guarantee for himself. But Aslan had always told him to wait, and so he did.

Now since none of his siblings had an heir, the kingdom would fall to a regency council, a group of trusted Narnians who would rule the country until either the four royals were found, or Aslan directed who would be the next King.

These thoughts rolled around in his mind, threatening to overwhelm him with a sense of impotency. Here he was, a 28 year old man trapped in a 13 year old body removed from his kingdom where he had been in total control, and now he did not even have a room he could call his.

As these feelings crowded around in his brain he knew what he had to do. He dug in his trunk, searching to find his trainers. He found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and found his shoes underneath the bed where he must have stashed them …. What? 15 years ago? Or was it yesterday? The time bending headache aside, he quickly changed into the running apparel and made his way down stairs. Conditioned as he was to the long passages and many rooms of his castle, he was able to quickly reacquaint himself with the layout of the professor's house and was soon pounding the gravel road.

It was something he always did as a king. He knew how crucial it was for him to stay in shape for battle, and, more importantly, it helped him clear his mind and organize his thoughts. He and his bodyguard, often a centaur or faun, would go down to the practice fields and run laps around the edge of the field. Most of the time he limited it to a 30-45 minute run, but if it was a holiday, or a day when not much could be accomplished at the castle he would run as long as he was able, for an hour or two until he almost collapsed with exhaustion. He needed to feel that sometimes.

Now Peter ran with strides shorter than they once had been. He reached the end of the long drive and turned down the long country road heading any direction that was away from the house. He soon noticed that he was breathing very heavily and that his steps were becoming shorter and more difficult with each stride. Soon, way too quickly, he found he could no longer continue. He pulled up gasping for air, nursing a terrible stich in his side, and as he looked at his watch he registered that barely 15 minutes had passed. He was exhausted and had probably gone no more than 2 miles.

As he stood with hands on his head, he thought of all the training he had done, all the muscles he had built, and the endurance he had developed. All gone, lost to the English Air and an untrained body. As he walked painfully back to the house, he thought of what his life would be like now that he was back. It would have to proceed as it always had before, just a normal average life.

And yet so much had changed.

His body may not reflect it, but his mind held the thoughts of a man who had, until recently, ruled over a nation, dealt with international politics, made treaties, and made war. A man who had killed. And he would never be the same. From the moment his blade ripped through the muscle and sinew of the wolf and he saw the life drain out of its eyes, he would never be the same.

So what was he to do?

He thought back to the coronation and what Aslan had said there. Aslan had repeated it once or twice in other conversations, but he particularly remembered the words Aslan spoke as he and his brothers accepted the mantle of leadership for Narnia.

"Once a King or Queen in Narnia, always a King or Queen in Narnia. Bear it well Sons of Adam, Bear it well Daughters of Eve."

But how could he bear it well Aslan? Here he was, a King of Narnia, but a King without a Kingdom. He had no one to rule, nothing to do, and he did not even have the strength to run a full 2 miles.

Bear it well?

He walked a little ways, and his breathing began to steady. He picked up a light jog as the house began to come into view. His thoughts turned to The Lion, his main source of strength and comfort for all those years.

He would bear it well, and he smiled as he thought to himself how much work lay in front of him. But he would do it.

He would train, as he did on the fields of Narnia, here in England.

He would work long hours, as he did by candlelight in Cair Paravel, here in England

He would do what was necessary to fulfill whatever plan The Lion had for him here, in what was now a strange world to him

And as he walked inside the house, back to his room, passing a bewildered looking Edmund, knowing that he would soon need to comfort a heartbroken Lucy, praying he would find strength in his now 12 year old sister Susan, he knew that he knew only one thing.

That this, whatever it was, was the Lion's will.

Authors Note:

Thanks to all who reviewed. Now y'all have two snippets of Peter and where he is at during two different stages in his development. Next chapter will really start the narrative, as it jumps up a bit to get into the start of the story. For full disclosure, my plan is to update the story once or twice a week, however, the more reviews and follows I get, the more likely I post more often. Any questions, comments, or advice, please review, it really is very encouraging to get your feedback and to know that someone else likes this stuff.

God Bless

ShadowlandRefugee


	3. Chapter 3

********4 Years Later*********

 ********An English Boarding School*********

"Hey Pevensie" shouted a voice behind him.

The sound of multiple pairs of feet reverberating down the empty hallway followed the voice, but Peter kept on walking. It was late, closing in on curfew. He had been at the gym, getting in a last set before his coach had made him leave, and he was carrying his gym bag on his shoulder. Instinctively, his hand reached to his back pocket where he kept his knife. It made him feel better, knowing it was there. It wasn't quite as good as the almost forgotten weight of Rhindon sitting on his hip, but it would have to suffice.

"Oi Pevensie, I'm talking to you" the voice called out again.

Peter recognized the voice. It was one of the boys he had grown up with at the school, and at one point he might have even called him a friend. But Peter didn't have many friends now, mostly just hanging out with his siblings. Most 17 year olds wouldn't be caught dead with their younger brother, but Peter and Edmund were almost inseparable. It wasn't normal, but then again, very little was normal about Peter. He knew why, even if no one else did.

"Pevensie, yo…"

"Yes? how can I help you?" Said Peter, trying to be pleasant as he turned around to face the boys.

"There we go." said the boy smiling viciously "how's our little prefect doing."

"I'm not your little anything Jack." said Peter smiling as he held back the anger in his tone.

The boys laughed as Jack said "Easy there mate, that's not what I wanted to ask you about."

"What is it then? You better hurry up, curfew is coming on soon" Peter replied.

"You going to turn us in mate?" Jack asked still laughing.

"Yes." said Peter hardly.

"Okay okay, just wanted to ask you if you knew a gal named Susan."

"Susan, yeah she is my sister."

"Well, she was looking pretty fine, last Saturday mate."

"What are you talking about Jack?" asked Peter, with a hint of an edge creeping into his voice.

"Well you see mate, me and my boys were down near Saint Finbars last weekend, and we met this fine young lass, didn't we boys. We showed her a real good time and I couldn't help thinking that she reminded me of you"

"What did you say" Peter said, any illusion of pleasantness gone, his voice challenging and harsh.

"Easy there mate, we just wanted to let you know. We were very careful. It would be a shame though if we weren't quite as careful next time though, wouldn't it be?"

"Are you threatening my Sister?"

"No, no, no, we just need a little help sees …" but that was all he was able to say before Peter's fist connected with the side of his face.

The other boys were ready and the three of them pounced on Peter. Peters bag dropped to the floor before two of them grabbed his arms while the other proceeded to deliver powerful punches to Peter's face. Peter allowed them to wear themselves out for a bit before kicking the boy in the groin. The surprise allowed him to free one of his arms and he brought his fist around to deliver a left hook to the other boys jaw. The satisfying sound of crunching bone told him that that boy was done for the fight, and Jack was still on the ground out cold. The last boy ran off before Peter could deal with him. "Let him run" thought Peter, "we are going to need the teachers anyway." He surveyed the mess he had made. Luckily apart from the broken jaw, the other boys didn't look too damaged. Peter realized that most of the blood on the floor was his own. The thick red substance flowed from his nose and from a cut on his face. He walked into a near bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.

Staring back at him was a teenager. He had filled out since his first trip through the wardrobe, and had built a good deal of muscle. He was built like a wing, which was his position on the Rugby team, tall and strong, and able to move quickly across the field. He was tall, about 5' 10, with long brown hair. He missed the beard he had once had, back when he was High King Peter of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, but hopefully that would come back soon. For now, he still thought he looked awfully young, but as the time had passed, he had accepted the changes to his body.

What he still could not accept was his change of situation.

That first year had been dreadful, and each day he longed for his kingdom. He thought constantly of his people, how they were coping and what they were doing, and begging Aslan to send him back to be with them. He was dreadfully bored, accustomed as he was to having mountains of paperwork to do each day. Next to running a country, school was a breeze, and he often was bored in class. His teachers liked him however, as he was a polite, nice young man, and he got excellent marks so no one much bothered him. Peter retreated into himself.

When Aslan had finally listened and taken them back into Narnia, it might as well have been a different world. This wasn't his Kingdom, his kingdom had died 1300 years earlier, and now he was only there to put someone else on the throne.

He loved it though. The sense of power, the respect, the feeling that he was doing something important and making a difference in people lives. He knew how difficult a task Caspian had in front of him, and he had hoped Aslan would allow him to stay, to mentor the young King. But no, Aslan had said it was time to leave.

Time to leave and never return.

He had told Lucy that he thought he could bear it, and yet as he walked through the doorway, turning his back on his kingdom forever, it felt like an impossible feat.

And so three years had passed. He had excelled in classes that he had learned 1300 years ago, grew into the most athletic boy in his school and was generally isolated from everyone else. What could they tell him? How could they get to know him? What did they know about anything?

The anger came slowly. Building up in him, threatening to burst at any second. This wasn't the first fight he had had, although it was the first at school. He generally limited himself to stray bullies picking on kids at the playground, or the odd pickpocket in a London train station

But it had grown to the point where he felt he couldn't contain it. Edmund understood, and it was in his brother that he found his only source of comfort. But even with Edmund he could not be completely honest. He had to cover up some of it, for Edmund still looked to him as High King.

As wiped his face off and tried to stem the blood streaming from his nostril, he heard a professor enter the hallway. He came out of the bathroom and looked at the professor.

"Good Evening Mr. Clark"

"Mr. Pevensie, what is going on here?"

Peter spent the next 3 hours explaining his situation and was finally sent to his bed, with strict orders to be at the headmaster's office at 9 the following morning. As he slowly made his way to bed, bruised fist and sore face still hurting with every movement, he thought of how different his life was now. As he lay in bed, knowing he would be up again in a few short hours for morning practice and all the consequences that his actions would cause he cried out in a silent prayer.

"Aslan…. What have I become, and what is your plan for me?"

Author's Note: Hey y'all here is my 3rd chapter! What do you think, too moody, too self centric, out of character for Peter? Next chapter will certainly feature Edmund so Peter wont be so alone with his thoughts. Thank you to Wildhorses1492 for reviewing this last chapter.

Here is my incentive for reviewing. If you review, I will use you as a character in my story. I realized in writing this that I had a hard time coming up with names and characteristics of other minor characters so I thought I might as well include the people who actually are interested in the story. The more reviews, the larger the role. (Of course if you write an anonymous review there isn't much I can do to put you in the story). Any comments, even flames, are good to help the story.

Thanks for reading!

God Bless,

ShadowlandRefugee

Song for this is Mansion by NF


	4. Chapter 4

Peter awoke to the sounds of his alarm. He groaned as he rolled over in bed, his head aching as he tried to remember the events of last night. The world was still dark and his roommate groaned and pulled his pillow over his ears to drown out the alarm. Peter had morning lifts Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but even though this was a Thursday, he still got up at 5 am. It wasn't as if he had homework keeping him up late at night, although the events of last night made him seriously consider dropping back off to sleep. In fact just as he had made up his mind to do so he heard the door creak open, and saw the hallway light spread into the room.

"Peter" rang out a voice in a hushed whisper, "Come on let's go!"

Peter groaned again as he hauled himself out of bed and threw on a shirt and his trainers. Edmund, he knew, would never accept any excuse to miss the "other" training he had to do.

As Peter made his way through the door Edmund was waiting for him in the hall.

"Come on Sleepy ey… what the …" said Edmund as he got a clear look at his brother's face.

"Talk. Later." Grunted Peter as the fog of sleep still clouded his eyes.

The two walked down the hallway and out into the crisp English April Air. It was about 12⁰ C outside and the two of them shivered as they began a light jog. They made their way toward the Gym, looking as if they were trying to make it there right when it opened at 5:30 but at the last minute ducked into the woods behind the building. Making their way carefully, the moved until they found the discreet hole they had dug underneath the fence that surrounded the school grounds. Making their way through the hole they ran for another 10 minutes before they reached a small clearing.

"What Happened?" demanded Edmund.

Peter bent over and cleared the brush off a pair of broadswords hidden in the brush. He picked up the two blades and flipped it to Edmund. Just as Edmund grabbed the blade, Peter's sword flashed in the dim light of dawn and Edmund quickly had to defend himself.

The blades collided in a crash of whirring steel as the two men fought, eyes locked on one another. The blades had been surreptitiously purchased without their mother knowing. They were not real swords, but rather fairly high quality reproduction stage blades. They were dull, like the blades Peter and Edmund had practiced with in Narnia but had a similar feel. They were not properly balanced but were sufficient for their purposes.

They had been a gift from Edmund to Peter. Edmund had worked for an entire summer to earn enough for the two blades, and now, every Thursday the two would sneak out to remember the past. While they both knew they would never return to Narnia, it was a way for them to hold on to what they had had.

And what they had lost.

After 30 minutes of fighting interrupted only by short respites where they each caught their breath and had some water, Edmund finally disarmed Peter, and holding him at sword point said.

"Now then, tell me what happened to you or I shall skewer you like a suckling pig."

"Alright, alright" laughed Peter as he pushed the blade away. Edmund broke into a grin and they sat on the ground with their backs against two solid oaks, panting for breath.

After the two had sufficiently recovered, Peter told the story of what had happened the night before. While Edmund was pleased Peter had been able to overcome the three attackers, he was furious that anyone would dare to threaten Susan, and had half a mind to go back to the school and let the perpetrators know it.

After he had settled down, Edmund focused his attention back on his older brother.

"What's going to happen to you?" he asked.

"I don't know." Peter wearily replied.

The two of them made their way back on to campus without being noticed and Peter hurried off to shower and grab a bite to eat. His first class was at 7:45 and as he made his way into the classroom he heard the whispered voices of students. Word had spread quickly and while the details were probably inaccurate, everyone knew that the prefect had been in a fight.

He sat down in the back of the classroom, waiting to be bored by another hour of Biology. He knew it was going to be a struggle staying awake on 3 hours of sleep and about halfway through the lesson on RNA and its role in the cell, he had to stand up in order to keep from falling asleep. His teacher looked at him but proceeded in her lecture. He had done the reading unlike most of his classmates so the lecture was purely review, and the minutes ticked slowly by as he anxiously waited for his appointment with the headmaster.

Peter liked Headmaster Bates, and the two had had many conversations during Peter's time as a prefect. As he made his way to the Headmaster's office he thought about the possible punishments he would receive. He knew he would not be a prefect anymore, that much was almost certain. But would he be expelled? He thought not, this was his first time in any real trouble, but it was possible. Would the school seek to use him as an example; to show that there was no tolerance for fighting? All these thoughts ran through his head as he made his way into the waiting room. The secretary told him to have a seat, and he sat there, patiently waiting. He wondered how often people had once sat waiting for him, High King Peter; to make decisions, to hand down punishments, to give rewards, and again he thought about unfair his position was.

He shook himself, both to keep from falling asleep and from the self-pity that he despised just as the secretary told him to enter the office.

Peter walked in, trying to keep his head high.

"Peter." Headmaster Bates said warmly.

"Yes Sir?" said Peter.

"Come in, Come in, and sit down. Alice, shut the door." said Headmaster Bates.

Peter sat, and for a long minute the two just stared at each other. The silence was interrupted by a single word from the Headmaster.

"Why?"

So Peter told him. Not everything, not even close to everything. There was too much to tell him everything. No one would, no one could, know everything. So he told him just enough so the headmaster would know why the rage had kicked in. About his Sister, about how they had threatened her. About how he had struggled with anger for a while and wasn't sure why.

It wasn't much, not even close to the whole story, but it was more than he had revealed to anyone outside his close knit family since before the wardrobe. To display weakness was not a magnificent trait, but something about this man had touched him. He felt he need to make someone, anyone, understand why. Why he had done what he had done. Why he didn't deserve punishment. That the only punishment that needed to be administered had already been given.

For ten minutes he talked and when he had finished he sat there, and silence once again filled the room. Finally, Headmaster Bates broke the silence.

"Peter, you know we have a very strict policy regarding fighting, therefore I have decided on your punishment. You are to be suspended from your role as Prefect for a month and I am requiring you to go to a meeting in London on April 20th."

Peter could scarcely believe his ears. A month's suspension as prefect and having to go to a stupid meeting the following weekend. That was easy! Practically a slap on the wrist. But Headmaster Bates continued.

"Listen Peter, I know right now is a challenging time for you, nothing is ever easy for a teenage male, particularly for someone as talented as yourself. I see in you a great deal of potential. You are capable of being a great leader, but you need to invest your time in things that are worth it. Petty bullies like Jack are not worth it. You are gifted physically and mentally, but you need to develop yourself socially. To be a leader, you must first convince people to follow you. After all, a leader is nothing without his followers. People respect you Peter that is half the battle, the rest is convincing them to follow you.

Peter knew this. At least, in his head he knew it. And yet, still the words rang true for him. He had been somewhat isolated from his fellow classmates, perhaps because he felt an air of superiority, or just the wall that he had built up to protect himself.

"Now, Peter" said Headmaster Bates, interrupting the introspection. "About this meeting …. Have you ever thought about joining the military?"

Peter looked up and smiled "Once or twice."

 **Authors Note:** Hey Y'all! First of all thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. Wildhorses1492, Narniaheartedgir, O-Line72, Sophia the Scribe and The-Fault-In-Our-Potters, You all rock! I have characters plotted out for everyone who has reviewed so far, but it is going to be a couple chapters before I get to them. If you want your character description I can send it to you. Again, thank you all for reviewing.

Song for this chapter is Battle Scars by Lupe Fiasco and Guy Sebastian

God Bless

ShadowlandRefugee


	5. Chapter 5

As he walked out of the Headmaster's office, he went quickly back to his room. His meeting had taken about an hour, and he had a history class next. He was nearly jubilant with the news that he wouldn't be suspended, or really even punished. That thought motivated him through the rest of the day, keeping him awake through an excruciating series of History, English and Calculus classes. Once he had finished his last class, he ran up to his room.  
He grabbed his phone and dialed Susan's number. He had not forgotten what Jack had said and wanted to make sure she was alright.  
Riiiiiiinnnnnnggg  
Riiiiiiinnnnnnggg  
Riiiiiiinnnnnnggg  
Riiiiiiinnnnnnggg  
Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of Susan Pevensie. The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep BEEEPPP  
"Hey Su, It's Peter, just wanted to make sure you are doing alright, please call me when you can, Love you!"

He knew he didn't need to call Susan, after all they would see each other tomorrow. Once a month all the kids came home from boarding school to spend a weekend with their parents. That was this weekend and Peter was anxiously awaiting a home cooked meal and to see his parents and siblings.

After 2 hours of practice Peter was exhausted and content, dashing off to grab a bite to eat before going to collapse in his bed. As he made his way to his room, Edmund stopped him and Peter told him about the events of the day.  
"That's great Peter!" Edmund said enthusiastically, but at this point, Peter was too exhausted to say much, so he quickly wished his brother a good night and collapsed into his bed. As he lay there, he rolled over and grabbed his phone. Susan hadn't called him back and he really hoped she was okay.

Jacks word's stuck in his mind _, it would be a shame though if we weren't quite as careful next time._  
 _Next time_. Was Susan really putting herself into these situations with such frequency that there would certainly be a next time? What exactly were they threatening to do? He had dealt with many threats seated on his throne in Cair Paravel or listening to an envoy on some foreign battlefield. But he had always had an army to back him. The last time someone had threatened his family in Narnia; that fool Rabadash and the insufferable Tisroc, Aslan himself had come to stop the High King from leading an invasion to kill every man in Tashban.

It would have sentenced Narnia to destruction, but the rage he had felt that anyone would dare think about taking such action with his sister had boiled up inside him, and he felt the need to do something. To pay them back.

But now he had no army. He had no royal guards he could send to protect the person who had once been his best friend.

The two had drifted apart after coming back the second time. Susan had felt the same pain he had. Once she had been a queen, fought over by men from all over the world. Now she was a commoner.  
Both of them had struggled, but whereas Peter had held on to Narnia out of desperation, Susan had rejected her land out of detestation. She hated where she was now compared to where she had been, and tried to forget it. Now it was a mere fairy tale to her, a game they played as children.

At least that is what she said out loud.

But Peter knew that a part of her could never forget what they once had been.

And thinking of this drove Peter into a rage again. ASLAN! How could you have done this too us. To give us so much, to make us great, and then to take it away. He felt like Job, the man who had had everything. Health, wealth, a family and then BOOM! In one instant everything was gone. Both Susan and Peter were adrift. A King without his Kingdom, and a Queen without a castle.

Without protection, without responsibility, without a family to take care of. Maybe that was why she was so focused on growing up.

Peter and Edmund had always handled the administrative work of the kingdom. The two king model had allowed them to divide areas of administration, Edmund fulfilling the role of what the Calormens would call a grand vizier.

Edmund handled the judicial side, and was often the more mobile of the two, being sent out to deal with disturbances in the countryside, or as an ambassador if someone really needed to be impressed.

Peter had had to be more stable, and while he still campaigned with his army regularly. He spent a large time handling the administrative work of running the kingdom. He was busy making final decisions on laws, dealing with the council of Lords and handling the mass of paperwork the High King had to deal with. It kept him busy, a 24/7 job that had left little time for anything else.

That was what Susan was for

She ran the house. While Peter may have been Lord of Cair Paravel, everyone knew that it was really Susan's domain. Entertaining guests, planning events, making sure that the kingdom, which hadn't truly existed before she came along, was capable of matching the respect they had earned on the battlefield.

She took care of her siblings, especially Lucy, and acted almost as the surrogate mother of the group.

She would listen attentively as Peter told her his plans for the future, cringe in worry as Edmund told of his latest adventure, and comfort Lucy when the pressures of being a monarch became too much for the valiant little girl.

She was also the public face of the siblings. While Peter and Edmund were away, it was Susan who would visit new schools and public dedications, while Lucy was often taking care of the wounded on the battlefield, Susan would be the one to visit them at the hospital at Cair Paravel. Many a soldier had regaled their tale of heroism to a laughing Queen, or wept openly as the same queen laid a hand on their shoulder.

She was gentle - kind, not one for battles, but someone who had an inner strength. She was who people looked to not only to host the most elegant ball rivaling those in Tashban itself, but also the person the kingdom looked to when it needed comforting

Now, here in this cold hard world, there was no place for a Gentle Queen.

What was she to do, who was she to comfort, what family did she have to care for? Now, they had a mother, and she could barely hide the jealousy that sometimes came over her. She chafed under their father, and while the siblings still looked to Susan for guidance, she knew it would never be the same and withdrew from them.

Susan didn't spend much time at home. She was always out partying and hanging with friends.

Peter knew she dreaded having to return home for the one month, and that she was putting herself in dangerous situations. He knew she wanted freedom, wanted control, wanted to be wanted, and yet she had to be careful. Who knew if there were more thugs out there like Jack, or if Jack would be back again.

As he rolled over in bed, turning off his desk lamp, he knew he could never let anyone hurt his sister. She may have rejected him and her family, but he would never reject her.

After all, what was family for?

Author's Note: a sorry this took so long. I really struggled writing Susan and trying to get her character right. Let me know what you think. I wanted to get this out, but I had to do it from my phone. I have some formatting things to fix, and I will get to it tomorrow. Thank you so much to all who reviewed. Y'all rock!

God Bless,

ShadowlandRefugee


	6. Chapter 6

"Peter, wake up, we'll be there in a couple of minutes." Edmunds hand gently shook Peter's resting frame as Peter emerged from his sleep.

"How much longer?" Peter said sleepily. As soon as school had let out, the two boys had hurried to catch the 4 o'clock train to Finchley. Peter had fallen asleep almost immediately and had slept rather well. Edmund had stayed up, watching his brother sleep before pulling out his book on law.

Edmund was only a freshman, but, like Peter, was far outstripping his classmates in every discipline. He was aiming to go to Oxford to study law, a natural expression, he thought, of his role in Narnia. He wasn't called the Just King for nothing. He had had the best legal mind in Narnia, was fair and honest, and good at seeing through witnesses to get at the heart of an issue. He knew he would do well, he just wished people would see past his age to the mind that lay behind.

He certainly didn't have the mind of a 14 year old.

"5 Minutes" Edmund said as he stood up and grabbed the bags as Peter continued to emerge from his state of comatose. Peter had had another long and boring day of school, and was thankful to be home at last. He would be glad to see his parents, and especially glad to see Lucy.

His relationship with his parents was fine. When they had come back, Ms. Pevensie had immediately noticed a change in her children. She hadn't asked them about it, but they seemed older, changed by their summer in the country. Before they had arrived back home, Peter had held counsel and the four had decided, with the advice of the Professor, not to tell their mother. If she needed to know they would tell her, but there was no need for her to be unnecessarily perplexed. She would probably not believe them anyway, and there was the distinct possibility that she might institutionalize them.

But she had witnessed the…oddities.

The way that Lucy would run to Peter or Susan, and not to her.

The deep conversations she would see Peter and Edmund engage in with hushed voices.

She could see it in their eyes. There were words that would cause her children to light up and look as though they were remembering a far off dream.

Narnia.

Aslan.

She didn't know what they were and knew better than to ask, but when Mr. Pevensie had returned home from Iraq, the two of them would compare notes and try and figure out the mystery of their children.

Peter's relationship with Lucy though, oh even the thought of the sweet little girl brought a smile to his face as he knew the ray of sunshine would be eagerly awaiting his return home.

He knew she wasn't really a little girl, but he had always struggled getting the image of her at about 6 years old out of his head. It had caused some problems in Lucy's teenage years, where the wild spirit, rebelling against being cooped up running a country, would steal away for a week during the midsummer festival, dancing gaily with her friends the fauns.

It was a nightmare for security, but it had never caused much of a problem. The entire country was her bodyguard.

For Peter they would kill.

For Susan they would admire.

For Edmund they would submit.

For Lucy they would die.

The train pulled into the station and Peter and Edmund hopped off the train. Susan and Lucy's train should have arrived about fifteen minutes sooner, so their parents would be at the curb, waiting in their car. Peter and Edmund hurriedly walked out of the station and looked around for the car.

"PETER! EDMUND!" Lucy's shrill voice cut through the surrounding noise like an arrow from a bow, and both boys, with huge grins on their face turned to see their little sister jumping up and down on top of the car while their father desperately tried to pull her down and Susan sat in the car, hands covering her face wearing an embarrassed smile.

"LUCY!" The boys shouted, and ran over to the car.

Both of them wrapped Lucy up in a huge hug, before turning to their father and mother, embracing them both. Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie already knew about Peter's black eye and spared him from answering about it. That would come later.

As they hopped in the car and as they drove the 15 minutes or so back to the house, Edmund told a story about the cafeteria food. Lucy, planted right between her brothers, leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Did Edmund get a good hit on you again? When are you two going to start using shields like sensible warriors?"

Peter smiled "I'll tell you about it later, but of course he didn't get me. You should see his thigh though."

Lucy smiled knowing Edmund must have a nasty bruise, and surreptitiously put her hand on top of Edmund's thigh. A small little push, and a satisfying grimace from Edmund proved Peter to be correct and the two of them began laughing hysterically.

As the car pulled into the driveway of their suburban home, the two boys jumped out of the car, and grabbed everyone's baggage. Peter and Edmund rushed upstairs to their shared bedroom, while Ms. Pevensie began finishing up preparations for a meal. Peter knew it would be better to wait until after dinner to ask Susan about whether Jack had really meant anything by his threat and so went downstairs to help his mother with dinner.

Once the meal finished, Susan announced that she was going to a party with some of her friends. Her friends had offered to pick her up, since she was only 16, but Peter quickly offered to drive her. Unable to find a good reason to deny the offer, she went upstairs to get ready while Peter and Edmund helped clean up. 30 minutes later Susan reappeared in full party get up and they walked out to the car.

Peter backed the car out of the driveway, as Susan peered into the mirror and drove around the corner, heading to the party. Once they were out of sight of the house he stopped and parked the car on the side of the road.

"Peter? What's up." Said Susan

"Look Susan." Peter said slowly "We need to talk."

"Is this about me not responding to your phone call? I didn't get…"

"No, it's not about that the other day this guy named Jack was talking about you. He was threatening to … do something to you, and I just want to make sure your being careful."

At this Susan began to get angry. "Are you saying you don't think I am careful?"

"No, I am not saying that, I just wanted to…"

"You don't think I can take care of myself, do you?"

"No, Susan. Listen."

"No Peter Pevensie, you listen to me, you think that you can just tell me how I should live my life and what I should do and where I should go. I know you have Lucy feeding you reports on me like a little spy. And I don't know what sort of enjoyment you get out of controlling my life, but stop it. Stop it now." Susan shouted and then began to break down and start crying.

"Listen Susan." Peter said as empathetically as possible "I am not here trying to control you. I just care about you and love you and want to make sure nothing bad happens."

"Well you can't always protect me, I can take care of myself!" Susan said through her tears. She unlocked the car and opened her door. Peter tried to stop her, but it was too late, she was gone. Wandering away into the night.

Peter didn't know what to do. So he just sat there, watching his little sister walk farther and farther away from him. He didn't know what else he should have done. What did he do wrong? When Susan began to vanish, he started the car and followed after her. He quickly caught up and stopped the car squarely in front of her as she attempted to cross the street. She reluctantly got in and he drove her to the party.

Neither said a word.

When Peter dropped her off, he waited for a while watching Susan suddenly reanimate with life as she surrounded herself by those who called her their friend. He could have gone to the party too, in fact he saw some people he knew from school, but they weren't really his thing. Even at Cair – No that memory could not be thought of right now. He would not think of the time when the four of them had ruled in harmony. When no one had to worry about the others safety because everyone knew they were between the Lions paws.

Now though, the lion seemed so far away as did the times when they were happy.

Peter drove back to his house, not even bothering to turn on the radio. No radio played the station he wanted to hear, of lutes and lyres and pipes played by fauns on a summer night.

He turned into the driveway and walked into the house. Lucy had already gone to bed and Edmund was upstairs finishing some homework so he could enjoy his entire weekend and not worry about work for another whole week. Peter suspected his brother also had another motivation for leaving Peter alone with his parents, but they both knew the conversation would happen sooner or later. After all the mark on his eye was still present and unavoidable.

"Peter," said Mr. Pevensie in his deep warm voice "sit down."

Peter moved into the living room and sat down on the far couch, away from the one his parents were sitting on. He looked them square in the eyes, not breaking his gaze. He knew he had done nothing wrong. He also didn't want them to know about Susan. Not yet. He didn't want to threaten his Sister with their parents, but he wanted to have it in his back pocket if he needed it. If his parents found out someone had threatened Susan, their protective measures might be… extreme. He knew the headmaster must have neglected to mention the threats to his parents, or else he would not have been the subject of interrogation and Susan would not be at that party.

Probably locked in her room more like. Peter thought to himself, suppressing a smile.

"What happened Peter?" Mr. Pevensie.

So Peter told them, upfront and honest, not excusing his actions, but not repenting for them either.

"Peter" Mrs. Pevensie said gently "You know violence is not a good response to any situation."

He didn't know that actually. In fact, he knew a good many situations where violence was the only good response to a situation. But what could he say to his mother. How could she possibly know that he had used violence many times to solve situations? How could she know that the violence he displayed the other day was only a fraction of the violence he had used in the past? When he was older.

She couldn't know.

"Yes mom, I know, it won't happen again." Peter lied.

"Good" said his father, "I think Peter has learned his lesson, what did you say your punishment was again?"

"A two weeks suspension as Prefect and I have to go to some sort of meeting in 2 weeks." Said Peter

"What is this meeting about Peter?" Mr. Pevensie asked

"I'm not really sure." Peter said truthfully. What he didn't say is that he knew it had something to do with joining the military. He was positive his parents did not want to hear that at the moment.

"Well, I am sure you will tell us all about it, won't you dear" His mother said, somewhat patronizingly, at least so Peter thought.

"Yes Mom." Peter said.

"Well, your mom and I are heading to bed, it's great to have you home son" Said Mr. Pevensie.

"It's great to be home dad. Sleep well!" Peter said trying to be cheerful.

They exchanged "I love you" and Peter headed upstairs to bed. He was tired from a long week and collapsed on his bed. Edmund asked him a few questions, but Peters limited responses convinced him to give up. Edmund turned off the light and as Peter went to bed, he thought he felt a warm breath of air rush over him. He looked up to see if the heater was on, but it wasn't. The window was shut, and the still air floated around in the air. He could have sworn he felt something though. Downstairs he heard the front door creak open and knew that his sister had come back alright again. He smiled in relief and with the final thought of his sister, he fell asleep with a faint smile creeping over his face.

Authors Note - Thanks y'all for reading. I hope you like this next chapter. Please let me know in the Reviews what was your favorite part, and especially if there are any suggestions to make the story better.

God Bless!

Shadowland Refugee


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